An Idea to End All Bad Ideas
by May a Chance
Summary: Hindsight is 20 20. Going to Canada was a really bad idea.


**Hey hey! So I'm pretty sure this is some of the biggest crap I've ever written but please tell me what you think! I'm mostly putting this crap up because I needed to post something by month's end.**

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Hindsight wasn't quite twenty-twenty. If it were, Sam would have seen that they were closing in. He would have noticed the all-too-subtle hint of everything seeming alright, and nothing was ever alright when it came to the Winchester brothers. It had been entirely too quiet, that small time between on crisis and the next. They'd just brought down a rogue wendigo living in a cave system outside of a small town in Montana, and before that a vampire nest in Washington. A hunt near Vancouver had caught their eye, and it was on the way up that it didn't occur to Sam. Crossing through more populated areas were difficult enough, but going all the way up to Canada? That was reckless.

But the drive had been short at only four hours, and the killings seemed to be that of a young demon, first appearing to kill only small animals before graduating to the deaths of a pair of hikers and their dog.

Sam made a mental note: never cross country borders again, die and stay dead as soon as possible.

They'd been planning to meet up with a family of hunters who were interested in Sam's expertise on supernatural creatures, planning to take out the demon together and teach the family a thing or two. The northern forests of British Columbia seemed to be a breeding ground for wendigo, if the abandoned mineshafts and frequent disappearances were anything to go by. To Sam, the silent rain forests of British Columbia would have made a wonderful place to take a few days off. It would have been quiet and comfortable, spending a few days with a few other hunters, and maybe clearing the air about the whole 'apocalypse' thing. Most hunters were still pretty pissed about that one. But _no_ everything just _had_ to go wrong.

"Sam- may I call you Sam?" a man with long reddish hair, longer than Sam's own, sat down at the chair across from Sam. He was reed thing and only a few inches shorter than Sam, which put him at around four inches about average and maybe a little bit more. He had glasses, thick and black, resting on his nose and whilst he didn't look like a threat Sam's trained eye could pick out the subtle tensing of muscles and toned condition of his arms, which were carefully resting on the table with his fingers crossed in a mesh. "You're quite the character." A few vanilla envelopes sat on the table before Sam. He raised his eyes in a 'so?' fashion.

The hunter shot the FBI agent an unimpressed look. "You're not that intimidating, you know."

"I have been made acutely aware of that, yes."

Sam raised an eyebrow, gazing at the smaller man. "What would you like to know?"

The man leant back in his chair, relaxed. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I would like to know everything about you."

Allowing the barest of a grin, Sam replied. "My name is Sam Winchester, I'm twenty-four years old and I studied law in high school. My mother was murdered when I was six months old and when my brother Dean was four years old. We were raised on the road by our father, John, and I attended Stamford law until I was 22 and my fiancée was murdered. Whatever you've accused me of, I'm not guilty of it." Sam fiddled with his hands slightly, having lowered his gaze to watch his nimble fingers fiddle with the edge of his thick jacket. With the final words, he glanced up to meet the doctor's eyes, his warm brown eyes gazing perceptively into Sam.

Reid glanced at Sam, only half there but studying him with all the prowess and perception that only a trained psychologist could have. "That's all good and well, Sam, but right now I need to know about the people that your brother murdered in St. Louis. I need to know why you were there, what day you arrived, how long you had been there for and when you left."

A long sigh escaped Sam. "I got an email from one a' my college friends, Becky Warren. We got there in late February that year, I think? It was right after Becky emailed me. We were there for maybe a week and then left in early-ish March. Do I get a question now?"

"No. Were you involved in the deaths of those woman?"

"We went because Zach got arrested and Becky needed emotional support. That's... the extent of our involvement if you're not including the fact that the guy doing it looked like Dean. Like a lot like. Enough to totally mistake him for Dean. I think he was a clone."

The man sitting across from Sam let out a long sigh. "Whilst cloning creatures has taken place before, this second animal passed away early on, as shown by the first cloned animal, Queen."

Sam rolled his eyes. "The sheep, I know that. But if you tested DNA, I bet that you would get an exact match."

"Which then bears the question: Which one?"

Carefully tucking another strand of his long hair behind one ear, Reid continued to gaze deeply into Sam. It was almost like he was being taken apart form the outside inwards, the FBI agent slowly peeling away every layer of Sam's skin to reveal the gaping chasm where _Sam_ had once resided. No longer, for he'd been torn apart one too many times and in all of those times his soul had been shattered, not once had it been put back together. He felt like Humpty Dumpty, falling once and being broken, but then falling time and time again and each time leaving behind more tiny shards of himself in the cold, barren ground.

"Dean has an alibi."

Sarcasm slipped into the doctor's tone. "Oh right, his brother that he might as well have raised. Because _that_ 's going to hold."

"We were also tied up in the secret underground lair of the clone. Now I most certainly get a question: What is your doctorate for?"

Reid leaned forward, his long hair falling into his face once again. "Math, chemistry and engineering. Now are you going to tell me what really happened? I'm willing to make you a deal."

"Oh yeah? You'd make a deal with me if I told you the truth. I tell you the _truth_ and God knows what happens."

"Are you a religious man, Sam?"

A slight nod, giving away nothing.

"Then trust in him that we will believe you." Sam noted the tuck of his hair again, and how the other man refused to meet his eyes. Autism, he noted absently. Probably Asperger's.

"What's the deal?"

"I can get you immunity. You won't be a free man, but you also won't be in prison. I do this, and you tell me everything about where your brother and you were from when you left college to now, and what you were doing in each of those places."

Again, a slight nod. "We're vigilantes. People were going missing in Jericho, so we destroyed what was doing it. Same thing in Blackwater Ridge; people going missing and some poor grizzly taking the blame. Then in Lake Manitoc where people were being killed by something in the lake."

"And did you 'destroy' the person at Lake Manitoc."

Sam gave a long, sad smile. "I wish we could have done more."


End file.
